


Liquid Courage

by benicemurphy



Series: Murph's All Good Things fics [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Body Shots, Frottage, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Sexual Tension, Stranded, Tequila, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29633688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: “There has to be something better than this,” Shiro says, dropping his cards on the table in a huff. The four candles in the middle of the table flicker with the movement.Keith lowers his cards with another long-suffering sigh. “Got anything in mind?”“I don’t know,” Shiro says with a shrug. “We used to be fun, right?"Or: Shiro and Keith lose power and have to findsome wayto occupy their time.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Murph's All Good Things fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168307
Comments: 20
Kudos: 128
Collections: Sheith Cookbook





	Liquid Courage

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third and final fic for All Good Things! This one was written for the NSFW PDF. Enjoy!

“Go fish.”

Thunder crashes outside the window. It’s been pouring down rain for hours, and the National Weather Service has just issued a severe thunderstorm warning for the rest of the night. They’ve been advised not to leave the house, not even to go into their own front yard.

“Got any...sixes?”

It wouldn’t be such a big deal any other time. Actually, any other time, Shiro would _kill_ for some alone time with his best friend. He conveniently left his work laptop at the office for the weekend, which means he now has a free pass to turn off his phone, ignore his after-hours work calls, and actually _relax_ for once. It’s a dream come true.

Keith sighs heavily. “Go fish.”

Or it would be, if the power hadn’t gone out two hours ago.

Shiro looks at the cards in his hand. They’re all starting to blur together, if he’s being honest. How on Earth did he play this game for so long as a child? It’s been maybe half an hour, and he’s ready to set the whole deck of cards on fire.

“There has to be something better than this,” Shiro says, dropping his cards on the table in a huff. The four candles in the middle of the table flicker with the movement.

Keith lowers his cards with another long-suffering sigh. “Got anything in mind?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro says with a shrug. “We used to be fun, right? Back in college? That wasn’t that long ago.”

Keith snorts. “For me, maybe. You’re getting old.” He pops a handful of trail mix into his mouth and chews, holding Shiro’s gaze as Shiro tries his best to glare at him. When he’s done chewing, he smirks and adds, “Grandpa,” just to be a little shit.

God, he’s amazing.

“I’m twenty-nine, you brat. And I can kick your ass.”

“Ha!” Keith throws his head back with the force of his laughter. “You wish! Name the contest, and I’ll beat you at it. Every time.”

Sadly, he’s probably right. He’s already won seven straight games of Go Fish.

Lightning flashes bright and terrifying, nearly lighting up the entire apartment, in tandem with a massive boom of thunder. Shiro sees Keith go a little white before the light disappears again.

“You okay?” he asks.

Keith nods. “Not a huge fan of thunderstorms,” he says.

Shiro makes a sympathetic noise. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.” Keith shrugs. “Never liked ‘em as a kid, still don’t like ‘em now.”

“Well,” Shiro says, rising from his seat and making his way into the kitchen. “It seems like we should do something to take our minds off of the weather.” He rummages through the cabinets, not quite sure what he’s looking for, but determined to find _something_ to do other than play cards and stare at each other. It’s not often that Keith shows his weaknesses, and never around anyone other than Shiro. Shiro will do what he can to protect the parts of Keith that need protecting.

“Again, if you’ve got any suggestions, I’m all ears,” Keith drawls. “What did you even do for fun in college? Weren’t you like, a massive nerd?”

“Yes,” Shiro says, “but nerds have fun, too.”

He opens the bottom corner cabinet, the one filled with things he’s forgotten about, and in a stroke of good luck, finds a long-forgotten bottle.

“Aha!”

“What?” Keith gets up to follow Shiro into the kitchen to investigate.

Shiro straightens up and sets the bottle on the counter with a heavy thud.

“Tequila!”

The look Keith gives him could level a building. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” Shiro assures him. “Although, I can’t promise I remember when we bought this bottle...”

“Shiro, there’s no way you can handle tequila shots. When’s the last time you even drank?”

And yeah, okay, he does have to think about that for a minute, because he hasn’t really had the energy or desire to drink since he started his job, which was...four years ago?

“It’ll be fine,” he says with a wave of his hand. He turns a mischievous grin on Keith— the one he knows Keith can’t resist. “Why, are you scared? You know I can still drink you under the table?”

It works beautifully. “In your _dreams_.” Keith pulls out two shot glasses and starts pouring each of them a shot while Shiro rummages through the fridge as quickly as possible for the limes he hopes are still good.

“Don’t let the cold out,” Keith scolds. “We don’t know when the power is coming back on.”

“I know, I know.” He locates the limes and shuts the refrigerator door, holding up his prize for Keith to see. “If we’re gonna do shots, we’re gonna do them right.”

Keith just rolls his eyes. “Okay, old-timer. Let’s do this.”

He quickly cuts the limes into sections. Keith just watches, hovering. Maybe it’s the darkness, or the way Keith calls him “old-timer” so affectionately, or the sounds of the storm outside the window; or maybe it’s the combination of everything and the way Keith is smirking at him that makes him feel drawn to Keith like a magnet. He allows himself to step into Keith’s space a little bit and takes his hand.

“Lick,” he commands. Keith brings his own hand up to his mouth and licks the skin that stretches between his thumb and index finger, just enough to make the salt stick, never breaking eye contact. Shiro shakes a bit of salt there and then does the same with his own hand. “Ready?”

Keith nods.

They pick up their shot glasses and begin: lick the salt, take the shot, suck the lime.

Shiro must have done this a hundred times in college, but it’s never felt like this. There’s something heady about watching Keith— incredible, gorgeous, _stunning_ Keith— go through the motions. He watches the way Keith’s tongue draws across the skin of his hand, the way he throws his head back with the tequila, exposing the long line of his neck, the way he sucks the meat of the lime with an eyebrow quirked in challenge. It’s...powerful.

“Another one?” Keith asks when they’re finished.

Shiro can’t help but laugh. “Is this what we’re gonna do? Just stand in the kitchen and shoot tequila until we pass out?”

“Wanna make it more interesting?” That wicked grin is back, and _oh_ , Shiro can never back down from a challenge, especially when it’s Keith.

“What did you have in mind?”

Keith sets his shot glass on the counter and saunters away, hips swaying in a way that makes it very hard for Shiro to stop himself from putting his hands on them. “Hmmm...” Keith muses. “How about...Truth or Dare?”

Shiro swallows. Another lightning strike illuminates Keith’s devilishly handsome face, and Shiro feels something shift.

This is dangerous. This—the two of them, alone in the dark with a bottle of tequila—this could change things. It’s a risk. But the way Keith is looking at him, it feels like the good kind of risk.

“You’re on,” he says. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Keith answers immediately. Of course. Keith doesn’t need a game to tell the truth; and besides, like Shiro, he loves a good challenge. It’s one of the thousands of reasons they’re so good together.

“Okay, I dare you to...” They have to start small and work their way up. He looks around the room for inspiration, and his eyes fall on his phone. “Dance to the first song that comes up on shuffle.”

Shiro walks over to the table and turns on his phone. Immediately, a billion work emails pop up, but he dismisses the notifications and goes for the music app. He hits shuffle on his library and waits for the music to start playing.

Keith balks when the dulcet tones of Cotton Eye Joe start playing. “Why do you have this?”

“It’s a fun party song,” Shiro laughs. “Now come on. Dance, monkey, dance. Or would you rather take another shot?”

Keith rolls his eyes, sticks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, and proceeds to do an embarrassingly good cowboy dance—or at least, as good as any cowboy dance can really get. He stops when Shiro is laughing too hard to keep watching.

“I’m taking that shot anyway,” Keith grumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best when he’s trying to force himself not to smile.

Shiro pours shots for both of them, because he’s nothing if not a good sport.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Dad likes to line dance on the weekends. He used to make me go with him when I was a kid.”

Shiro chuckles and pats Keith consolingly on the shoulder. “You’re a good son.”

Keith laughs. “Okay, old-timer. Truth or dare?”

Shiro thinks about it for a second before responding. He’s probably not drunk enough for truths, yet. “Dare.”

“I dare you to do a handstand.”

Shiro laughs. “That’s it?”

“For a full minute, otherwise you have to take a shot.”

“That’s not a dare! That’s a test of my abilities.”

Keith quirks an eyebrow at him. “Is that a no?” His eyes slide toward the bottle of tequila and back to Shiro’s.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk,” Shiro teases. Still, he shakes out his limbs and counts himself down, then falls into a handstand. As soon as his legs are in the air, his shirt falls down over his face. “I hope you’re timing me!” he calls from behind the fabric blocking his view.

“Mmhmm,” Keith agrees absently. Vainly, Shiro hopes Keith notices the work he’s been putting in on his abs lately.

He counts for himself, and when he hits sixty, he lets himself drop out of the handstand and pull his shirt back down over his stomach.

“There.”

Keith shakes his head. “Uh-uh. That wasn’t a minute.”

“Was so! I counted!”

Keith turns his phone timer around at him. It reads 58 seconds.

“You started the timer late.”

Keith just smirks and pours Shiro a shot. “Sorry, old man. You got impatient. Now you have to pay.”

“Fine,” Shiro says. Two can play this game. “But you’re taking one too, since you cheated.”

Keith shrugs, his smile tugging the corner of his lips a little higher. “Pour it, then.”

Before he can bring his salty hand to his lips, Keith stops him. “Like this,” he says, and loops their arms together.

“I can’t reach my salt like this,” Shiro says. It comes out a little breathier than planned.

“So use mine,” Keith says. There’s a dare in his eyes. He’s testing the boundaries, and Shiro is inclined to let him.

Without another word, he lowers his lips to Keith’s hand and watches Keith do the same. He presses his mouth to Keith’s hand and lets his tongue lave over the skin there as he licks up the salt. He feels Keith’s tongue sweep over his own hand and feels his breath catch. They both pull back and take their shots, followed by the lime. The whole time, they never break eye contact.

The air between them is heavy when they finish their third round of shots.

“Having fun yet?” Keith asks.

Shiro nods. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Play Strip Go Fish with me.”

“There are faster ways to get me naked.”

Shiro feels his dick twitch. Maybe Strip Go Fish is a bad idea, after all. “Take a shot, then.”

Keith does. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

“Take off your shirt,” Keith commands.

It doesn’t take a single thought. Shiro’s shirt is off and tossed across the room in a matter of seconds.

He knows Keith is starting to feel the effects of the alcohol when Keith runs a finger down the middle of his abs.

“You’ve been working out your core,” he observes. “I can tell.”

Shiro takes a step toward Keith. “Thanks for noticing.” Keith’s hand flattens against his abs and stays there. “Feel free to touch as much as you want.”

Keith hums appreciatively. His hand moves up his stomach and over his pecs, grazing a nipple on the way, finally settling on the muscle connecting Shiro’s neck and shoulder. “Truth or dare, Shiro?”

Shiro swallows hard. His heart is pounding so hard, he can feel it in his dick. “Dare.”

To Shiro’s dismay, Keith steps away, but only to pull off his own shirt. “Touch me,” he says. “Notice me.”

“I always notice you,” Shiro answers, but does as he’s told.

Keith’s strength is less obvious, more lean and streamlined, but undeniably there. Shiro lets his hands glide down Keith’s flanks to his waist, where they pause to squeeze appreciatively. His waist is so trim and narrow, the perfect contrast to his shoulders, which have filled out beautifully in the past couple of years. He’s not sure if he pulls Keith forward or if Keith steps closer of his own volition, but he’s glad either way.

“Truth or dare?” Keith asks.

“It’s not your turn,” Shiro says.

“So?”

“Good point,” Shiro agrees breathlessly. “Dare.”

“Take another shot. Off of me. Right here.” He points to the dip of his abdomen right above his hip bone. Shiro’s mouth runs dry.

“Get on the table,” he tells Keith. Keith grins and does as he’s told, lying out flat on his back on the table so that Shiro can perform his dare.

“Right here,” Keith reminds him with a coquettish quirk of his lips. He licks his own fingers and wets the spot above his hip.

Shiro salts the wet spot and tries not to look as nervous as he suddenly feels. Sure, he’s got enough liquid courage in him to go through with this, and sure, he’s been dying to get his mouth on Keith for as long as he can remember, but it’s still kind of a big deal.

“Count me down?” he asks.

Keith nods. “Three.”

Shiro positions himself above Keith.

“Two.”

He lets himself rest a hand on Keith’s exposed stomach—for balance, of course.

“One.”

Shiro bends down and licks a long stripe across Keith’s hip, all the way to his belly button where he lets his tongue dip inside. Keith’s stomach jumps beneath him, but he doesn’t protest—just hands Shiro his shot, which he takes almost reluctantly, not ready to wash away the taste of Keith’s skin. He reaches for Keith’s other hand that is presumably holding his lime, but it’s not there; Keith closes his hand around Shiro’s and pulls him forward until they’re face to face, and then he grins.

The lime is between his teeth.

Shiro doesn’t hesitate this time. His lips brush Keith’s in sweet temptation as his teeth sink into the lime. He doesn’t pull back until he’s sucked the lime dry, and Keith’s lips are left with the last few sour drops. It gives Shiro an idea.

“Your turn,” he says. He grabs a quarter of lime. His heart pounds. “One more shot. Right here.” He taps the side of his neck.

Keith looks dazed as he sits up but quickly shakes himself out of it. Without a word, he pours himself one more shot, grabs the salt shaker in one hand and the nape of Shiro’s neck in the other, and pulls Shiro down so that he can lick the tender flesh of Shiro’s neck. He shakes the salt over the spot and carelessly discards the shaker. Then he pulls Shiro down with both hands and _sucks_ until Shiro is panting and very, very hard.

“Oh, fuck,” Shiro exhales on a shaky breath. He almost forgets his plan until Keith pulls away to take his shot, and that’s when Shiro sucks the lime himself.

“Hey, what—” But Keith doesn’t finish his protest, because Shiro’s lips are on his, and then Keith’s tongue is in Shiro’s mouth, and from there all Shiro can think about is how badly he wants to get his mouth on every part of Keith.

He backs them up to the couch because it’s the closest soft surface he can find and shoves Keith into a seated position. He wastes no time dropping to his knees and unbuckling Keith’s pants, shooting a questioning glance up at Keith as he does so, and at Keith’s enthusiastic nod, yanks down both his pants and underwear in one motion.

Keith’s cock is hard and pretty and twitching at the attention. God, Shiro has been waiting so long to do this. He’s dreamed about what Keith might look like, naked and flushed and panting. He’s fantasized about the sounds Keith might make. Tonight, he’s going to find out.

He gives Keith’s dick a couple of cursory strokes just to watch Keith’s abdomen jump and hear his breathy, punched-out sigh, but he’s impatient—he can tease Keith long and slow another night, hopefully.

Keith looks down at him through half-lidded eyes, and Shiro maintains eye contact as he wraps his lips around him and sinks down. Keith’s head falls back against the couch when Shiro swipes his tongue around his shaft. The noise he lets out goes straight to Shiro’s groin.

“Fuck, Shiro. You’re gonna kill me.”

Shiro chuckles a little, and the sensation must be good because Keith’s dick throbs in his mouth and Keith lets out a long, low moan.

He could get drunk on Keith’s sounds alone.

Shiro sets a punishing rhythm. Normally he’d love to take his time and savor the moment, but it’s been a long time coming, and he can’t wait anymore. He wants to taste Keith, wants to feel his release on the back of his throat and his cock throb on his tongue. He bobs his head quickly, coming up to circle his tongue around the tip and then taking him all the way down to the hilt, over and over until Keith’s fingers are clutching the couch cushions in a death grip.

He knows Keith is close when his hips lift up off the couch. He’s panting and cursing— “Fuck, Shiro, god fuck shit fuck” —and then he falls silent, and Shiro feels his mouth fill with Keith’s hot release.

“Holy shit,” Keith breathes. “That was...athletic.”

Shiro breaks into a grin. “Good?”

“So fucking good,” Keith groans. “I don’t know how you expect me to reciprocate when I can’t move my legs.”

“I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Shiro says. “I don’t expect anything.”

Keith groans again. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Carry me to the bedroom.”

Shiro laughs but, as always, does as he’s told. He stands and bends Keith over his shoulder at the waist, one hand on his thigh to hold him steady and the other firmly planted on his ass, just for fun.

Keith’s hands wander, too, and Shiro can’t help but skip a step when he feels Keith squeeze both ass cheeks.

“I’ve been wanting to squeeze this baby since the first time I saw you in sweatpants,” Keith says. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen.”

Shiro gives Keith’s own perfect ass a complimentary pat. “Clearly you’ve never looked at yours in the mirror.”

Keith scoffs but doesn’t argue.

They make it to Keith’s room first, because it’s closer, and Shiro drops him on the bed. The bed bounces a little, jostling Keith, and Keith actually _giggles_.

“Okay, strong man. Get over here.” Shiro starts to make for the bed, but Keith stops him. “Pants off. It’s the rules.”

“There are rules, now?” Shiro asks teasingly, but he shucks his pants and boxers all the same.

“Yes. The rule is if you’re in my bed, you’re naked. The other rule is that you have to kiss me.”

“Hm,” Shiro hums teasingly. “All the time, or just when I’m in your bed?”

“All the time,” Keith says. “But especially in my bed. Now come here and kiss me before I give you a demerit.”

Shiro laughs. “Yes, sir.” He climbs on top of Keith, carefully holding up his weight on his elbows, bracketing Keith’s head. He leans down for the kiss, and Keith meets him in the middle, always impatient.

“That was a tricky little trick you pulled with the lime,” Keith says when they pull apart for air.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Mmhmm,” Keith agrees. He goes in for another kiss, this one hotter and messier as Keith pulls Shiro’s body impossibly closer. “You could have kissed me any time,” he says against Shiro’s lips between kisses. “I’ve wanted you forever.”

“Me too,” Shiro pants.

Their bodies slot together, moving in rhythm with their panting breaths. Shiro tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair and holds him there. His hair is soft and silky, even sweaty and tangled as it is.

Shiro feels his climax build with every press of his dick against Keith’s thigh. He pants into Keith’s mouth, unwilling to pull back. Keith’s hands on Shiro’s ass urge him onward.

Keith’s dick has plumped up again in the meantime, and now Shiro feels it twitching against his hip.

It spurs him on even more. He growls with impatience, chasing both his own orgasm and Keith’s; he’s never been the impatient type, but he goes after what he wants, and what he wants now is to see Keith bow back with pleasure beneath him as he spills himself over Keith’s stomach. He wraps his hand around both of their cocks and jerks them both together.

Keith whimpers, a sweet sound that catches Shiro completely off guard. He moans as he comes hard, unloading all over his hand and Keith’s taut abs. Keith follows immediately after.

Shiro watches his face, the way his brows furrow together, his lips parting and his head falling back, showing off the curve of his long, gorgeous neck. When Shiro is finished, he lets himself fall on top of Keith and buries his face in that beautiful neck, sucking sweet kisses wherever his lips can reach.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers between lavishing kisses.

Keith is still panting beneath him. When he catches his breath at long last, he says, “Truth or dare?”

Shiro is too exhausted to make himself sit up. So from his place at Keith’s neck, he says, “Truth.”

Keith swallows; Shiro feels it beneath his lips and kisses his Adam’s apple to soothe Keith's nerves.

“Is this a one-time thing or a...more permanent thing?”

Shiro’s heart skips several beats. He forces himself to hoist himself up to look Keith in the eye. He looks uncertain, but hopeful, and Shiro is ready to set that uncertainty to rest for good.

“This can be whatever you want it to be,” he says, “but for me, it’s always been permanent.”

Keith pulls him down into a sweet, passionate kiss.

“Stay with me tonight,” he says. “And every other night, if you want.”

Shiro nods. “I’ll stay with you forever, if you’ll have me.”


End file.
